Sparklers
Meta Timing: The third or fourth time Charlie and Jackson meet Setting: Jackson's flat Text Jackson lets them into the building, kisses Charlie into the mailboxes, brackets her against the wall, kisses the corner of her mouth— "Longest." —Nips her jaw— "Three." —Just under her ear— "Blocks." —Her neck— "Ever." —The tendon, rigid as steel— "Don't trap me," Charlie forces out. Jackson drops his arms and steps away. "Sorry." "It's fine." She gets the door. "I'm really sorry." "I said it's okay." Lowers her voice. "Where to?" Jackson clears his head with a shake. "Second floor, go left, it's straight ahead." She holds the door for him. He leads the way, holds the door for her when they arrive. They take off their shoes. "I'm getting a towel?" Jackson hedges. Charlie nods— He scurries to the bathroom, grabs one, gets a towel, tries again, gets a bath towel, rushes to his room. —follows! Jackson lays it on the bed, turns around— Charlie's right there, kissing him, sucking just the tiniest bit on his lip— He feels around behind him, slanting his mouth across hers, finds his bed, kneels one leg, sits down— Charlie does, too (much more gracefully). —reaches— HER HAND IS BRUSHING HIS KNEE!!!! —around her for the bedside table, knocks her shoulder— "Sorry." Charlie hums, leans back, pulls him with her. He straddles her hips, manages to get the drawer open. She makes a wonderful sound, cants her hips. Jackson still can't find a damn condom—this angle's useless; needs leverage, not sure where to put his hand, bed's too far, wherewherewhere, settles his hand on her waist. Charlie tangles a hand in his hair, fingers scratching his scalp— Jackson feels around, wobbles— Charlie pushes him away and says, with a laugh in her voice, "Why do guys always do that?" Jackson grumps, dedicates more than just a hand to digging through the drawer for a goddamn condom. Charlie rolls her eyes, crosses her arms, but she's smiling. He makes frustrated sounds, reluctantly lifts his hips for a better angle. "Any luck?" Jackson frowns, sits back on her thighs, and then his mouth thins. Charlie tilts her head. "So, I've been told my exs have trained me well. Care to give an objective second opinion?" Charlie raises an eyebrow. "It's rude to leave a person all hot and bothered and I can't find a condom and if I went to find one, that's what I would do. Leave you hot and bothered." Charlie settles herself against the pillows. "Go for it." "Great!" Jackson shuffles lower— "Go for which?" Charlie huffs, pushes herself up, takes hold of his collar and tugs him into a kiss. Jackson's heart flutters. She breaks off, catches her breath, opens her eyes. "Quit being rude, Jones." And the blood in his brain rides that right down to his dick. "Jones?" He's supposed to be doing something. "Still here?" He blinks. "Right!" Grins. "Sorry." Kisses her and kisses her and kisses her and they're more horizontal and their fingers tangle around the fastening of her pants. Charlie breaks off, says, "Pillow?" "Pillow—yes, thanks." . Jackson draws away. "So?" Charlie blinks away stars. "Not bad." Jackson beams. "[Awe/'some']." Kisses her hip. "BRB." Basically skips off. Okay. He's a dork. A dork who knows what he's doing. Water running in the washroom. Not too bad to look at, either. Halfway decent personality, too. Clattering. ""I'm okay!"" "K." Quiet sprinting. Might have to keep this one. Might have to delete what's-their-name off her mobile. More clattering. ""Still okay!"" "K." If he's not a jerk, anyway. Jackson slinks into the room. "So, I couldn't find any condoms, but maybe we could do something else?" Of fucking course. Charlie rolls herself out of bed, grabs her underwear. "What're you—" "Liar." Jackson splutters. Charlie yanks on her socks. "Okay, I lied, but I can explain, I do have condoms and I am usually one-hundred-percent game for using them—" "Go to hell." "No— I— but—" Jackson makes a frustrated sound, shtumps to the kitchen. . Jackson tosses a box of tea on the bed— Condom packages spill out. --and drops face-first beside it. Charlie picks one up at random, tilts her head. "Jones?" ""Mrmm."" "I feel like this is a pun." Jackson drags his head up. "It is," he groans. "It's the kind of pun that makes me wish I had a nerd card to return." Hides his face again. Charlie sits. "You've got {this} one—" Nudges his shoulder. "—tattooed to your chest." Jackson kinda sounds like he's dying. >I can't get 'squeals like worn-out brakes' out of my head as a possible replacement< Charlie picks packet. "This one?" Jackson shoves himself up, sorts through a handful. "Nerd, nerd—" Frowns. "No idea what this is." Charlie flicks it at him. "Find out." Jackson whines, pushes himself onto his knees, off the bed, loses his trousers. He sighs heavily, sits back on the bed, grabs up the condom, tears it open. Charlie reclines. "Oh my god." A pathetic sound. Charlie peers around the box— >where's the box relative to Charlie that she has to look around it?< "It's /'purple'." —bursts out laughing. "I look like a magic wand." Charlie laughs harder. Jackson makes dying whale noises and flops onto his front. Charlie gets herself under control, tugs at his hair. "Don't waste it, fruit loop." . Category:Ficlet Category:Work in Progress Category:Charlie Category:Jackson Category:Jackson's flat Category:Charlie and Jackson have a sex life